Another (Major) Bump in the Road
by penguino3782
Summary: Mickey thought that he and Ian have been through more than enough stuff to finally get to the good place where they are at now. Looks like he was wrong...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless.**

**A/N: I'm in the middle of deciding what to write next for "Changed". While I've been brainstorming this idea came to me. It's not going to be long, probably four or five chapters, but I hope you guys still like it!**

**Another (Major) Bump in the Road-Chapter 1**

Mickey doesn't even knock when he barges into the Gallagher's kitchen with his son in his arms.

"Yo, Gallaghers!" Mickey yells as he struggles with his squirming son.

"Hey, Mickey." Debbie greets them as she walks into the kitchen. She smiles as she holds out her arms to take Yevgeny. "Hey, Yevy! You feeling better?"

"His fever is gone, so I guess he is." Mickey replies.

The baby starts gurgling even louder when Debbie starts making stupid, goofy faces at him.

Mickey rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you okay with pudge?"

Debbie huffs. "Mickey, I've been in charge of daycare for years now. I know what I'm doing. Do I ask you if you need help with running the rub and tug?"

Mickey's eyes widen. What the hell is she talking about? Where the hell did she get that he was questioning her baby-sitting skills? Leaving Yevgeny at the Gallagher's Summer Day Care was probably one of the best ideas he had in a while. First of all, it's free. Thanks in part due to the fact that Ian is helping out there since after finally getting his meds balanced out the idea of grinding against dirty, old man lost its appeal. Mickey couldn't be more thankful for Ian's change in employment. Second, Lana is happy. A happy Lana means a Lana that is not constantly on Mickey's ass about something. She's happy that the rugrat is socializing with other babies or some shit and isn't constantly surrounded by hookers. And Mickey is happy because having a baby in the upstairs of the Alibi is the last thing that the business needs.

"Listen, I wasn't asking because I thought you couldn't handle it. I was asking because if he's all set with you, I was going to go upstairs and check in with Ian," Mickey says.

Debbie's mouth forms the "o" shape. "Sorry… things have been a little nuts around here this morning. Fiona is working a double at the diner. Lip took Amanda on a fireworks run. So, it's basically me and Carl with the kids."

Mickey's eyes grow large in alarm as he looks into the living that's filled with kids. His eyes frantically scan the room. "Where the hell is Ian?"

Debbie gives Mickey a sad look. "He's still in bed."

Mickey shakes his head. No fuckin' way are they going through this shit again. Things are finally for the first time in forever going right. After all the stuff they've been through they deserved this.

"Did you guys get into a fight last night?" Debbie asks, biting her lip.

Mickey shakes his head. "What? No. He had a headache. Couldn't get any sleep at my place between the constant babbling of Russian and that one crying because of the ear infection," motioning to the baby in Debbie's arms.

Debbie nods her head. "He's talking, so I guess that's something."

Mickey isn't so sure if Ian talking is something. Ian talked during those three weeks when he refused to get out of bed too. Not much but he did tell them to leave him alone.

"It's not like that, Mickey. He told me and Carl that he was sorry that he's not feeling up to helping with the kids. Has a fever too."

Mickey sighs in relief. A sick Ian he can deal with. Anything is better than dealing with a near silent, unmoving Ian. "You good down here?"

Debbie nods her head and goes to the fridge. She expertly pours juice into a cup with one hand, while holding Yevgeny safely on her hip. She turns back to Mickey and hands him the cup, "Here, give him this. He's in danger of dehydrating between the heat and the fever."

With cup in hand, Mickey quickly bounces up the stars and towards Ian's room that he still shares with his brothers. He pays the closed door no mind and carefully opens the door to see Ian facing the door curled into the fetal position. He moves closer to Ian's bed. "How you feelin'?"

Ian squints his eyes before he opens them. He gives his boyfriend a small smile when he spots Mickey by his bed.

The ex-con can't help but return a small smile in relief as Ian sits up and scooches over to make room for Ian to sit on his bed. Mickey tentatively puts his hand on Ian's pale forehead. "Debs is right. You do have a fever."

"Mhhhm," Ian sighs in appreciation when Mickey starts running his fingers through the redhead's hair. "Think it's just a summer cold."

Mickey bites his lip when he sees Ian scrunch his face up in pain. "Probably caught something from one of the snotrags downstairs."

"One of those snotrags is your son," Ian says.

"Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that he is twelve pounds of snot, and other bodily fluids."

Ian shakes his head, "anyways, better me catching a cold from helping out here than getting something from dancing all over some Grandpa at the club."

Mickey lets out a small snicker. "Seriously though? You okay?"

With his eyes closed, Ian nods his head. "I'll be fine. Just gotta get some sleep."

Mickey rolls his eyes. "How the fuck are you gonna do that here with a house full of screaming kids?"

Ian motions to the dresser by his bed where a half filled glass of water, Tylenol, and ear plugs are. "I'll put the ear plugs in in a bit."

"Why don't you just go over to my place? The kid is here. Lana is already down at the Alibi. It'll be quieter over there than here."

Ian shakes his head swallowing thickly "Can't."

"Why the hell not?" Mickey's voice and concerned both rising.

"Cause' I need to be around here if something happens with one of the charges." Ian explains. "And I don't think I have the energy to walk over there."

Mickey looks at him in concern.

"I'll be fine, Mickey. I promise. After some sleep I'll be fine in no time," Ian tries to reassure his boyfriend with a shit eating grin, but any headway he may have made in reassuring Mickey quickly goes down the drain when he winces in pain.

"Yeah, sure you are." Mickey quips.

"Go down to the Alibi. Kev needs you more than I do. What are you gonna do sit around here and watch me sleep?"

Mickey rubs his chin. Ian's right. There's not much he can do besides watch Ian sleep. And doing that while dealing with a house of loud ass kids is the last thing he wants to do. "Fine, then. But, make sure you drink this." Mickey says handing Ian the cup of juice. "Debs will have my ass if you dehydrate."

Ian shakes his head but drinks the juice nonetheless. "Happy now?"

"Getting there," Mickey says as he takes the empty cup. He hands Ian the earplugs. "Put these in and get some sleep. You really do look like shit." He stands up. "I'll come by later after making sure Kev hasn't fucked anything up down at the bar."

A playful slap of his ass causes Mickey to turn around, "What the fuck, Gallagher!"

"Go be a good pimp and bring home some dough," Ian says louder than necessary because of those damn earplugs.

"Idiot," Mickey calls out as Ian lays back down with a smile on his face. Mickey turns back one last time to make sure than Ian is settled as he closes the bedroom door behind him.

**XXXXX**

"Yo, big foot!" Mickey calls out as he enters the Alibi.

"Hey, Mick." Kev answers, drying glasses. "We have a slight problem."

"What is that?" Mickey asks as he takes a seat at the bar. "Did your giant, useless ass get us robbed again?"

"No," Kev replies. "The girls are complaining that it's too hot up there."

Mickey lights a cigarette. "So? They're from Siberia. Anything over forty degrees is too hot for those frigid bitches. Ice water runs through their veins."

"That may be, but they're refusing to take anyone upstairs until we do something," Kev explains.

"Jesus Christ!" Mickey utters and turns around in his stool. He spots Lana standing around talking to another one of the girls. "Lana!"

Lana shakes her head, but comes over to Mickey anyway. "Yes,"

"Why are you talking when there are dicks to be sucked?" Mickey asks motioning to the numerous patrons.

"We told him," Lana says pointing to Kev. "Too hot to work."

"Gonna be a helluva lot hotter outside on the streets if you don't get working." Mickey says.

"Hope boyfriend back soon. Bigger ass when he not around," Lana replies.

"Wait! Where's Ian?" Kev interrupts.

Mickey ignores Kev's question. "This isn't about Ian. This is about you doing what you get paid to do."

"You don't get paid, if we don't work. We don't work if too hot. You fix" Lana says pointing her long, bony finger into Mickey's chest.

"All right! All right!" Kev jumps is. "We'll see what we can do. We should be able to find some fans or some shit."

"Hear that? Get to work and in a couple of hours we'll get some fans up there." Mickey says.

Satisfied, Lana turns around and motions for one of the men to follow her upstairs.

With Lana out of sight, Mickey turns back to the bar. "Jesus! Unfucking believable!"

"What the hell is going on with Ian?" Kev asks pouring the younger man a beer. "He left?"

Mickey waves off Kev's concern. "Nah, man. He's just not feeling too good. Wanted to go back home to get some sleep."

Kev nods his head. "You guys good?"

Mickey nods his head as he takes a sip of his beer. "Yeah, all good."

Little did Mickey know how wrong he was…

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own Shameless.

**Another (Major) Bump in the Road-Chapter 2**

Fiona trudges down the stairs tiredly after she hears Debbie reprimand Sonia once again for picking Kelsey up half an hour late.

"Everything good, Deb?" Fiona asks her younger sister as the redhead starts picking up the toys that are scattered around the living room.

Debbie nods her head. "Quiet day. Pauly got a bead stuck up his noise. But, we got it out after making him sniff a bunch of pepper."

"Was Carl helpful?" Fiona asks as she walks into the kitchen to get dinner started.

"I guess if you call him having a farting contest with the kids helping, then I guess you can say he was."

"Where are Carl and Liam?" Fiona asks with a hint of alarm in her voice. Carl is the kid you always need to keep tabs on.

"They're out in the pool," Debbie says as she walks into the kitchen and places Yevy in Liam's high chair.

Fiona takes out a baking sheet and puts some chicken nuggets and tater tots on it. "Hey! Why is Yevy still here? Where the hell is Mickey?"

Debbie shrugs her shoulders. "Don't know. Haven't seen him since he dropped off Yevy this morning."

"Ian?" Fiona asks.

"Still in bed." Debbie answers as she takes out dishes for dinner. "He was throwing up earlier when Carl went up to their room to hide his slingshot from Danny."

"Damn!" Fiona curses. Ian doesn't get sick often, but when he does it's bad. High fevers. A cough here and there turns into a bout of pneumonia. A small ear ache turns into a raging ear infection. After placing the baking sheet with the night's dinner in the oven, she gives Debbie her cell phone. "I'm gonna check on Ian. You, call Mickey. Tell him to get over here and get his kid. I don't care if he and Ian are fucking. I'm charging him for baby –sitting services. And I'm gonna tack on a late pick-up fee," Fiona turns and is already heading upstairs.

With her back to her younger sister Fiona doesn't see the disgusted look on Debbie's face as she makes the call. "Hey, Mickey…."

Ian is moving restlessly on his scratchy sheets. He feels like he's boiling from the inside out. He tries to move to a cooler place in his bed, but he can't. Everything is hot. Too hot. He kicks off the blankets in hopes of finding some relief. He needs some water. He cracks open his eyes as he rolls over to try and locate his watery salvation, but when the brightness of the hot, summer sun hits him, he quickly snaps them shut. Fuck.

Where the hell is Mickey? Didn't he say he was gonna come by this morning?

His thoughts quickly dissolve into something more pressing when his stomach rolls. He leans over his bed towards the bowl that Lip brought to him earlier when his brother checked in on him. When nothing comes up, Ian rolls away from the bowl. His body shivers. "Fuck."

"How you feeling, monkey?"

Ian lets out a hiss of pain when he tries to move his head to see who's talking to him. Seeing the tired eyes of his older sister, Ian attempts to sit up. "Been better."

"I believe that. You look like shit." Fiona says as she takes a seat on Ian's bed. She holds out her hand to her brother's forehead to gauge his fever. She is instantly alarmed when he leans into her cooler touch, instead of twisting away from it like he usually does when he's sick. "Still warm. When was the last time you took your temp?"

Ian squints his eyes in concentration trying to think of the answer. "Don't know. A while ago. Took it when Lip got me some more water."

Fiona's eyebrows quirks in confusion. "Lip? He's back?"

"Back?" Ian questions.

"Yeah, remember? He and Amanda went on a fireworks run?" Fiona explains.

Ian nods his head as his fevered mind slowly processes what Fiona just said.

"Oh, Ian." Fiona says as she runs her hand through his sweaty locks. "You're really not doing so hot."

Ian stays silent as his mind tries to make sense of what is going on. He remembers coming back to the house to get some sleep because between Mickey and Svetlana's yelling and Yevgeny's crying only made his headache worse. But, didn't Mickey say he was gonna come by in the morning? And he clearly remembers one of his brother's checking on him. Wasn't that Lip? What the hell is going on? With his head frantically trying to figure this out, he doesn't even realize that Fiona has put the thermometer in his ear until it beeps.

"103.8," Fiona says sadly. "We gotta get that temp down."

Ian attempts to nod his head in agreement with her, but stops when nodding becomes too much for his aching head.

"Here, kiddo." Fiona says holding out a couple of aspirin and the glass of water.

Ian takes the offered pills and drinks greedily from the glass, only stopping when Fiona pulls the glass away. "Easy, Ian. Don't want you to get sick again. Trying to keep you hydrated."

Fiona lets out a sigh while Ian lays back down wrapping his sheet firmly around him, closing his eyes.

Feeling her weight leaving his bed, Ian asks "Where are you goin'?"

"Shhh, be back in a sec."

Before his fevered mind can ask her what she's doing, she's back. He lets out a moan when something cold is placed on his fevered brow. "Feels good," Ian whispers.

"Good," Fiona says softly.

Through the residual pounding in his head he can hear a commotion downstairs. He scrunches up his forehead in confusion. "What? What's going on?"

Fiona lets out a small chuckle. "Carl is just probably doing something to piss Debs off again. Probably taking more than his allotted share of the chicken nuggets."

The mention of food causes Ian's stomach to roll. He swallows quickly trying to keep the aspirin and water in his stomach. Seeing her brother's distress Fiona runs her thumb over Ian's unusually pale cheek. "Easy, Ian." She coos. "Just relax. I'm gonna get down there before there's a riot."

"Mickey?" Ian asks as Fiona runs her long fingers through his sweaty locks.

"He'll be back soon," Fiona reassures him. "He'll-"

"FIONA!"

"STOP IT!"

Ian can't help but let out a whimper when the sound of his siblings' yelling seems to be getting closer.

"Shhhh. It's okay, Ian." Fiona says as she removes her hand from his head. "Let me go handle them, you rest."

Ian's only response is to burrow himself further into his sheets.

By the time Lip is back in Illinois and has dropped Amanda off at one of her sorority sister's place, his youngest siblings are fully camped out on the couch watching some Shark Week special when he walks into the house.

"Hey, Lip." Deb greets, not even looking up from her legal pad, no doubt planning the next week's daycare activities and snacks.

"Hey," Lip says as he sits down, pulling Liam onto his lap. He looks around to see that Fiona and Ian are nowhere to be found. "Fiona at work?"

"Yeah," Carl says distractedly as his gaze remains on the tv screen where some shark is chowing down on its' prey.

"Ian back at Mickey's?" Lip asks.

Debbie shakes her head. "Still upstairs."

Lip bites his cheek in concern. Ian in bed for this long of time is never a good thing. "Mickey hasn't been around?"

"Not since this morning when he dropped Yevy off. No clue where he is. Called him before because Fiona had a fit when the baby was still here after pick up time. He didn't pick up so I left a message. Mandy ended up coming by to pick up Yevy." Debbie elaborates.

The concern that was laying in Lip's gut has turned into fear. Why isn't Mickey around? Whenever there's a problem with Ian, the ex-con is usually hovering around his brother. When Ian came home months ago, Mickey basically moved into their house. Making Ian coffee, sleeping on the floor by Ian's bed like a damn puppy. And most recently, Mickey would pace outside his bedroom door when Lip and the other Gallaghers would come by and visit when Ian was in his low and couldn't get out of bed.

So where the hell is he now? Did the two of them get into a fight? Lip wasn't home last night and when he came by the house to check everything this morning Ian was still in bed. And now Ian Is still in bed and Mickey's kid has come and gone. What the hell is going on?

"Is everyhitng….um okay with them?" Lip asks out loud.

"They're not fighting," Debs says.

"Then where the hell is Mickey? Thought that for sure with Ian sick he would be taking up residence here once again."

"There's some problems with the girls down at the Rub-n-Tug," Carl explains. "They threatened to go on strike or some shit if Kev and Mickey didn't do anything about the heat."

"How do you know this?" Lip asks.

"Vee told us when she came over to get more butt cream for the girls." Deb says.

"Ahhhh, the perils of being a pimp." Lip says with a snicker. He looks down at the toddler in his lap to see that Liam is tiredly rubbing his eyes and has his thumb in his mouth. "Looks like someone's ready for bed."

"Yeah, we decided to wait and let you put him to bed." Debbie says.

"Why?" Lip says standing up.

"You know how much of a dick Ian is when he's sick." Carl says.

Lip laughs. Carl's right. Ian does have a tendency to turn into a giant asshole when he gets sick. That explains why Liam is up way past his bed time. "You're just a bunch of chicken shits." Lip says as he makes his way upstairs and towards the boys' room.

Lip carefully opens the door to his darkened old room. He turns on the light and is instantly greeted with a string of curse words from the lump that is on his brother's old bed. "What the fuck!"

Lip shakes his head. Asshole Ian is out. He quietly places Liam in his bed before turning towards Ian. "How you feeling ass?"

Ian's answer goes unheard since his face is buried under his pillow. Lip moves closer to his ill's brother's bed. He doesn't need to be a doctor to know that Ian's burning up. He can feel the heat radiating off of his brother's body. He playfully slaps the back of Ian's calf. "Hey, ass!"

This time instead of incomprehensible muttering Ian answers by removing his head from under his pillow. "Mickey?"

Lip winces when he hears his brother's raspy voice. "I may be a dick, but I'm not the dick you want," Lip quips. He lets out a curse when Ian rolls over and looks at him. Ian looks like complete shit. His forehead is furrowed as if he's in pain. His eyes are squinted shut. His pale complexion has taken on almost ghostlike hue with the only color coming from the rouge that is on his cheeks that is no doubt the result of a fever.

Lip hands Ian the half-filled glass of water that is by the side of the bed. He looks nervously into the puke bowl and is relatively relieved to see that there's nothing in it.

Ian hands back his brother the empty glass after gulping down the rest of its contents. "Think I'm done puking."

"Yeah? That's good."

Ian shakes his head and places a hand on his forehead when the movement causes the headache to pulse with new agony. "Shhh, not so loud. My head is killing me."

"You're probably dehydrating with all the puking." Lip explains in a softer voice.

"Thanks, Dr. Oz for that piece of information." Ian retorts. "I already know that. Took about a dozen first aide classes in ROTC."

Lip sighs. Where the hell is Mickey? He had a long ass day with driving out to Indiana and dealing with Amanda's clinginess. The last thing he wants to do is deal with a whiny, sick Ian. "Yeah, well did any of those classes tell you not to be a dick when people are trying to help you?"

Both of them remain silent for a few minutes. But, the silence is quickly cut short when Liam starts thrashing and crying out. Another nightmare. A few seconds later Lip has the little boy in his arms comforting him. "Shhh, buddy. It's okay. It's okay." It only takes a couple of minutes until the little boy falls back asleep. Still rocking the toddler back and forth, Lip turns back to look at Ian who once again has his head buried under a pillow.

"Hey, I'm gonna keep Liam in my room for the night. That way you can rest, ok?" Lip says quietly.

Ian doesn't say anything but the gentle moving of the pillow that is covering his head tells Lip that he heard him. "Okay, I', gonna go put him to bed. Then I'll get you some more water. You want anything else?"

What sounds like a "no" is muffled and Lip takes his brother word for it. He quickly tucks Liam in his own bed and returns to his old room with the promised glass of water. When he turns the light off and goes to leave, he takes one last look at his brother who is moving restlessly in his bed. Something doesn't feel right. Maybe it's that big brother in him that feels helpless when he can't do anything to help out his siblings. Like when Liam got into Fiona's coke. Or when Debbie got into that mess with those bitches at school. When Carl almost got expelled. Or when Ian crashed hard all those months ago.

Whatever it is, this pit has taken residence in his gut. Sure, he's gonna go downstairs and have some beers and smoke some good weed, hoping that that pit will go away or at least lessen. And it will, but then it's gonna come back tenfold when Mickey fucking Milkovich comes barging into his room later that night….


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless.**

**A/N: My apologies for taking so long with this update. I just didn't feel like writing for a bit, but I think that I got my mojo back now. Thanks to all of you who are still reading this!**

**Another (Major) Bump in the Road-Chapter 3**

The Gallagher house is dark and quiet when Mickey finally make his way up the wickedly, old stairs during the wee hours of the morning. Mickey can't help but smirk when he takes out his copy of the house key. He knows that must have really pissed Lip and Fiona off that Ian gave him one. Then again they probably figured that if he didn't have one he would just end up breaking in. This was the lesser of the two evils. And Mickey can't lie, the sure look of annoyance on the two eldest Gallagher's faces when they first realized that Mickey had a key to their house was part of the reason why when Ian first handed him the house key he didn't tell the redhead to fuck off.

It takes some fancy footwork to maneuver around the Gallagher front entry way in the dark, especially after knocking back a few before he left the Alibi. Clothes and toys are scattered throughout and the last thing he needs is to wake up the kids and hear Lip's bitching. At least with Fiona working all those crazy ass hours at the diner he has not had to deal with her harsh looks and snide comments for the most part.

As Mickey starts the trek upstairs, he steps on a squishy toy that lets out a loud squeak. "Fuck!" He hears a rustling coming from the couch. He peers over and sees Carl has rolled over and has thankfully fallen back asleep. Damn kid can sleep through anything. That's a good thing. Relieved that he won't get bitched at for the time being at least, Mickey continues going upstairs as quietly as his slightly buzzed body allows him to.

Mickey quietly lets himself into the boys' room mindful of a sleeping Liam and also how bitchy a sick Ian can be. Debbie has warned him about that. Mickey wipes his sweaty forehead. "Fuckin' bitch. Hotter than fuck in here." He quickly looks around nervously to make sure that he didn't wake up the little snot rag. He's relieved to see that Ian is the only one in the room. Liam must have had another nightmare and is in Lip's room. "Move over, dick." Mickey says as he nudges Ian to move over on his tiny ass bed. Nothing. He tries again, "Don't be a bitch. I had to deal with enough shit all day." But, the redhead remains still. Confused, Mickey quirks his eyebrow. What the fuck is that? He can faintly hear a strange noise over the sound of the old, shitty ass, but he can't figure out what the noise is. "What the fuck is that?" He's not exactly quiet and Ian still hasn't moved.

Panic sweeps through Mickey. Alarmed, he reaches over and turns on the small lamp that is beside the younger boy's bed. "Fuck, Ian!" The younger boy is curled into himself, facing the wall. Despite being under several blankets in the hot ass room in the middle of August, Ian is still shivering. His teeth are chattering. Mickey's buzz is instantly gone.

"Wake up, Ian!' Mickey demands as he shakes the redhead's shoulder. Ian doesn't respond to the command, and only burrows himself deeper into his sheets. "Nah, man. That ain't gonna work," Mickey says as he rolls the taller boy onto this back. "You gotta wake up! Ian!"

Ian only squints his eyes tighter. Mickey lets out a string of curses. This ain't good. Ian needs to wake up now. He starts slapping the boy's pale cheek. "Ian! Ian! Come on, man!" After several long moments, Ian's glazed eyes finally open.

"Thank fuck!" Mickey says in relief. But, any relief that Mickey felt quickly fades when he sees that Ian's fever bright eyes quickly close. "Nah, man. That ain't gonna work. Open your eyes."

"C-can't," Ian replies squinting his eyes tighter.

Mickey shakes his head and rubs Ian's heated cheek softly. "Yes, you can. Come on, Ian. Please."

The softness in Mickey's plea must have made it through the redhead's fevered haze because he complies and opens his again. He looks towards Mickey. Not at Mickey but at some point past him. Mickey cups the redhead's face, ignoring the younger boy's grimace. "Look at me, Ian."

It takes a bit, but finally Ian's eyes meet Mickey's. "Mick?"

Mickey shakes his head. "Course' it's me. Who the fuck else would it be?"

Ian licks his dry, chapped lips. "Monica. Monica said she would meet me back here. Where is she?"

Mickey bites his lip in confusion and fear. Why the hell is Ian talking about his piece of shit mother? Mickey knows that Ian hasn't seen her in months. Not since she left him when he was manic after returning to Chicago after his failed stint in the army.

"Told me she….she was gonna meet me back at the house," Ian continues to ramble. "Monica!" Ian calls out louder, trying to sit up.

The daze that Mickey is in quickly ends when he sees Ian fighting with his sheets to get up, calling out for his absentee mother. "Hey!" Mickey calls trying to ease the sick teenager back down. "Stay here, stay here with me."

Shockingly, Ian complies. Mickey thinks it's more as a result of his weakened body than anything else. "You'll look for her?" Ian asks desperately, licking his lips.

Mickey nods his head, rubbing Ian's sweaty cheek softly. "I'll get her, stay here. I'll take care of everything." Ian nods his head before he slowly closes his eyes.

With Ian settled for the moment Mickey rushes down the hall and into Lip's room. "Gallagher! Gallagher! You gotta wake up, fuck head!" Mickey yells as he crashes into Lip's room, turning on the lights.

Lip in instantly awake. "What the fuck, Mickey!"

Liam lets out a cry of distress. Lip turns to Liam, rubbing his back. It's okay, buddy. Go back to sleep." Liam quickly falls back asleep and Lip turns to the ex-con. "You drunk?"

Mickey shakes his head. :"Fuck off, it's Ian."

Lip's eyes go huge. "What's wrong?"

"He's bad. Hot as fuck. Talking about your mother. Not making any sense at all"

Lip runs a hand through his sleep mussed hair. "Fuck!" He's instantly up and is rushing back towards his old room with Mickey at his side. Mickey stays off to the side letting Lip look over his brother.

"Jesus Christ! Ian, Ian. Come on, man! Look at me!" Lip says as he tries to break through his brother's fevered haze. From where Mickey stands he can see that Ian is not cooperating. "Come on, Ian." Lip pleads. "Let me take your temp."

Mickey moves closer to Ian's bedside. "Yo, Gallagher! Cut the shit. Let your brother take your damn temp." To an outsider Mickey's words and tone sound harsh, hell they are. But, Lip knows better. He saw the frantic look on the other boy's face when he told him that Ian was in trouble. Lip saw Mickey pacing restlessly when Ian was low and wouldn't get out of bed. He knows Mickey's scared. The sound of the thermometer beeping brings Lip back to the present.

"What is it?" Mickey asks, his eyes still on Ian. His thumb still stroking Ian's fevered cheek.

"104. Fuck!" Lip curses loudly.

Ian lets out a small whimper, rolling over and away from his two caregivers.

"Shhh, easy." Mickey says softly, squeezing Ian's shoulder.

"Gonna go next door and grab Kev's truck. Gotta get him to the ER," Lip says. "Stay with him. Try and keep his calm."

Mickey nods his head, squeezes Ian's shoulder again. "Not goin' anywhere."

Lip nods his head and is off. He doesn't even stop to grab a pair of shoes or a piece of clothing to put on over his boxers. No time for that. Just as he's about to reach the top of the sta_rs_ when he hears "Fuck, Ian! No!"

The pure desperation and fear in Mickey's cries propels Lip to turn around. When he turns back to his old room, he's met with an eerily familiar sight. The scene is the same, the players and small details have changed though. He is still standing uselessly to the side watching the scene unfold. But, he is no longer five years old and Ian is not four. This one is taking place in Ian's bed, not in Fiona's where she kept her brother close because the fever from the bronchitis just wouldn't ease up. And it's not Fiona holding Ian down in attempts to prevent him from hurting himself in a fever induced seizure. This time it's Mickey.

But one thing is the same. Lip is scared. He's scared shitless.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I still don't own Shameless.**

**Another (Major) Bump in the Road-Chapter 4**

**A/N: So glad to see you guys are still enjoying this. Thanks again to all of you who are following and have favorited and reviewed this. Also, in this chapter Ian's depression episode as seen in 4.12 will be portrayed in a flashback (in italics), just a warning for those who might find the subject matter triggery.**

Mickey is making Lip nauseas with his manic pacing back and forth while sitting in the waiting room with Debbie and Carl. He hopes that they hear something soon because he might just say something obnoxious and now is really not the time for that. It's been forty-six minutes, thirteen seconds since he and his younger siblings arrived in the ER behind the ambulance that carried Ian and Mickey to the hospital. But, it feels like it's been a helluva lot longer than that.

"What the fuck!" Mickey stops his pacing when a rubber band smacks him in the shoulder. He turns to Lip.

"Wasn't me," Lip outs his hands up to defend himself.

"It was me."

The ex-con turns to look at the boy who confessed. "And to think that I kinda liked you."

Carl's only reply is a one fingered salute. They remain silent as Mickey thankfully stops his pacing and takes a seat. The four of them stay that way until they hear a pair of running feet and a familiar voice. "What the fuck happened?!" Fiona exclaims.

Lip goes to open his mouth but Debbie beats him to it. "Ian had a high fever. Had a seizure so we called 911."

Mickey lets out a sarcastic laugh at Debbie's casual tone. "'High fever?' Paramedics said it was 104.2! We'll be lucky if his brain isn't fried after all this."

"Ian always run high temps when he's sick," Lip tries to explain. Hoping to mitigate what has just happened.

"So that makes it okay for him to have two seizures?" Mickey yells, holding up two fingers to emphasize his point. "Cause' it sure as hell isn't okay with me."

"He had two?" Fiona asks for clarification. Lip can hear the fear in her voice. It's true that Ian has had seizures when he runs a high temp, but up until this point he has never had more than one at a time.

"Had another one in the damn ambulance," Mickey replies. He hasn't divulged this information up until this point, and his only concern at the moment is Ian, so he doesn't see the terrified looks on Fiona, Debbie, and Carl's faces. But, Lip does.

"He'll be okay," Lip tries to reassure his siblings. If only he can believe that himself.

Mickey rolls his eyes at Lip's optimism. "What's your fuckin' problem?" Lip asks bitterly.

"You fucking Gallagher's and your life is always roses mentality. Were we in the same room before? He looks like shit. Fuck, he was talking about meeting up with your mother," Mickey says standing up.

Lip has had enough. Mickey's shitty attitude is not helping anyone at the moment. And if he knows his sisters as well as he thinks he does, they are both probably blaming themselves right now for not seeing how sick Ian is. They don't need Mickey beating them up about it, they're doing enough of that on their own.

He already feels like shit for not seeing this. Granted he was gone the whole day, but he was home when Ian's fever spiked. He was the one who put Liam in his room and asked Carl to stay on the couch so that Ian could try and rest. But, still….He dropped the ball….again.

Still he doesn't need Mickey fucking Milkovich in his face about it. Granted the former juvenile delinquent was the one who helped Ian get back on track after his bipolar diagnosis, but he also put Ian through hell and back countless times before.

"Hey, Hold on-"

"He had a fever of over 104! He never should have been home! He should have been here!" Mickey exclaims motioning to the hospital with his hands.

"When I left for work it was down to 103. That's normal for Ian when he's sick," Fiona defends herself.

Mickey nods his head and turns his direction back to Lip. "But, you were the one home with him when this shit got bad."

"We were too!" Debbie stands up.

"You're also what fourteen?" Mickey says. "It's not your job to look after your brother to make sure his brain ain't boiling."

"And where were you, Mickey? His knight in fucking shining armor? Because you sure as hell wasn't the one who brought him a puke bucket, a glass of water or Tylenol!" Lip yells.

Fiona puts her hand on his shoulder in hopes of calming her brother down. But, it doesn't work. Mickey wants to point blame, well he better be ready to hear his part in it too. "No, you were down at the Alibi dealing with your WIFE and your whore posse. You were drinking and doing whatever the fuck you do and didn't roll in until almost three o'clock in the damn morning. So, don't fucking stand there and point the finger at us!"

"Guys!"

"Hey!"

"Knock it off!"

Lip's hands are already in fists. His shoulders are tense. He's ready for a fight. It's been a long time coming. He's been waiting to come to blows with Mickey for a while now. Since Ian was hauled up in the other boy's bed, unable to get up. And Mickey refused every attempt made by Fiona and Lip to get their brother help. Wait. Who the fuck is Lip fooling, he's been waiting to go at it with Mickey way before that. Maybe it was back when Ian ran off to join the military because the thought of being so close to Mickey and his expectant wife was just too much to bare. Hell, it was probably way before that. When Ian started sneaking out all hours of the night. When Ian stopped coming to Lip when shit got bad. When Mickey somehow replaced him as being Ian's best friend and confidante.

"Yeah, but where the hell have you been?" Mickey asks with a snarl.

"I was on a fireworks run."

Mickey snickers. "Today yes. But where have you BEEN?"

Lip knows exactly what the other boy is referring to but he doesn't need Mickey being an ass about it. This is about Mickey and what he has done. Not Lip. "What the fu-"

"Cause' you sure as hell wasn't over my place when Ian wouldn't get out of bed." He points to the other Gallagher siblings. "They were, but you weren't."

"Look I had some shit-"Lip tries to explain, but he's cut off again.

"And I was dealing with fucking Kenyatta, a screaming newborn, and Mother Russia. And it sure as hell wasn't you who stopped those old fucks from bringing Ian's coked up ass back home with them from the club," Mickey bites out as he steps closer to Lip.

Lip is done. He has no words, but he has his fists. He ignores Fiona and Carl's pleas and Fiona's restraining hand. Just as he's about to wind up and make himself feel a whole lot better he sees Debbie's eyes focusing on something. Not something, but someone who just walked into the waiting room.

He along with Mickey, Fiona, and Carl look over to see a young doctor that looks no older than Fiona. "Ian Gallagher? Family of Ian Gallagher?" The man asks. Based on his impatient tone he gathers that he must have called the name but with him and Mickey almost coming to blows no one but Debbie must have heard him.

"Yes?" Fiona asks, turning to the doctor. "How is he?"

Dr. Baldarelli as his nametag tells them gives a tired sigh. "He's very sick."

"Yeah, no shit. The out of control fever and seizures could have told us that," A previously quiet and Carl says.

"Carl!" Fiona exclaims while giving the doctor an apologetic look.

Debbie slaps him hard in the chest, "Stop it!"

"Sorry," Fiona apologizes. "We're just worried."

Dr. Baldarelli nods his head. "As I said Ian is very sick. He suffered another seizure upon his arrival into the ER." A collection of gasps and curses are released, but the doctor doesn't seemed fazed as he continues, "we need to get his fever down but in order to do that we need to know what's wrong."

"So figure it out," Mickey demands.

The doctor rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Based on his symptoms; fever, vomiting, headache, and sensitivity to light we suspect meningitis."

"Is that bad?" Debbie asks.

Lip turns to his sister, "Yeah, but it's treatable."

"Give him the damn meds then," Mickey replies.

"It's not that easy. If it is meningitis, we need to know whether it's viral or bacterial before we can start treatment," the doctor explains.

"So what's the next step?" Fiona asks.

"Next thing we do is perform a lumbar puncture. Problem is that Ian is not exactly cooperating at the moment. The last thing I want to do is give him a sedative. So, I was going to ask if maybe one of you can come with me to try and calm him down."

Lip automatically steps forward. This is his job. It's his job to look after Ian. But, then for some reason he looks over at Mickey. At a Mickey who is so unrecognizable from the Mickey of old. He's no longer the dirty kid of the neighborhood's most feared man who ran around causing as much destruction and chaos as he can for the pure hell of it. No, the Mickey in front of him now looks lost, like his whole world is crashing down on him.

Lip recalls talking to Fiona shortly after Ian crashed. How Mickey refused to let Ian see a doctor in fear that he may be committed. That he insisted that Ian was to stay there with him. When he heard that Lip chocked it up to Mickey being possessive. That the ex-con was afraid to lose Ian after just getting him back. But, then he thinks about earlier when the ambulance arrived to their house. How Mickey hopped into the ambulance with Ian before anyone could object. And when Lip did open his mouth he was met with a "Fuck off, I'm goin' with him. Find your own way."

The Mickey standing in front of him now desperately needs Ian to be okay. And Lip knows that Ian needs Mickey. So, he has to be the bigger man and put his pride aside. "Mickey, you go."

The look of shock on Fiona's face at the moment would be funny if it wasn't under these circumstances. But, she quickly recovers. She leans in towards Mickey and says softly, "Tell him we love him."

The ex-con nods his head and follows the waiting doctor down the hall. They walk silently but just as they reach the door to a trauma room, the doctor says, "His fever is still pretty high and he's restless. We just need you to calm him down enough so we can do the spinal tap."

Mickey swallows nervously. He knows what a spinal tap is. _Sure, it's no big deal. It's only sticking a big ass needle in someone's back when they are out of their mind with fever. It's nothing at all._

He follows the doctor into the room. As he comes closer to the gurney he sees that Ian is moving restlessly across the pale sheets. No doubt trying to find a cooler place to rest his fevered body. A nurse looks up from the chart and spots Mickey, giving him a small smile. She looks down at Ian. "Looks like you have a visitor."

Mickey reaches Ian's side. He can only see part of the redhead's face because the younger boy has his head turned towards the bed, away from the harsh hospital lights. He's no doubt still feeling the damn headache that he has been battling for over a day now.

"Hey," Mickey says softly as he places his hand on Ian's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

After several long moments, Ian half opens a fever bright eye. "Mick?"

Mickey bites his lip when he hears the other boy's cracking voice. "It's me, Ian. How you doin'?"

Obviously Mickey knows the answer to his own question. Ian is not doing good at all. His red hair looks even redder because of his almost ashen complexion. His face is covered in a fine sheet of sweat. He keeps sticking out his tongue, in an attempt to moisten his cracked, dry lips. And let's not forget the fact that there are a couple of the hospital's medical staff buzzing around them busily.

But, Mickey really doesn't know what else to say at this moment, so he sticks to the basics. Maybe acting nonchalant will calm Ian down enough to let the damn doctor to do his job. To make Ian better.

"Hey, you iistenin' to me?" Mickey asks when Ian remains quiet after closing his eye. This is Ian being restless? What the hell is the doctor talking about? Ian looks like he can barely move. Maybe the younger boy's body is finally succumbing to the illness that he's so desperately trying to fight. He moves his hand from Ian's shoulder down to the hand that does not have an IV, squeezing it tightly. "Hey, hey. Look at me."

Ian doesn't open his eyes, but moves his head restlessly. "H-h-hurts," he moans.

Mickey bites his lip. He hates hearing the other boy's pain laced voice. He always had. "I know it does and that's why you have to listen to the doctor. Let him to what he has to. That way you can get better."

Ian maneuvers his head so that Mickey can see both of his fevered bright eyes. "Like before?"

It takes Mickey a minute to realize what Ian was talking about. Then it clicks. Back when Ian crashed and initially Mickey was against him getting any medical help, saying that he could get Ian out of bed on his own. Then that one day turned into one week which turned into two weeks. And finally on day number nineteen of Ian not getting out of bed, Mickey called Fiona. With Fiona in his living room, Mickey sat down on his bed.

"_Ian?" Mickey says. "Ian, please?" Still nothing. Mickey sighs, looking towards his door. Out where Fiona is waiting to bring Ian to the clinic. "I really don't want to do this, but I think your sister is right."_

_Ian remains silent with his eyes closed. The redhead's silence cuts him deeper than those few times when Ian told him to go away or leave him alone. Man, Mickey would give anything to hear Ian say something. Ian hasn't said anything for five days now. "Ian, say something…please. Tell me I should let your sister take you. Or tell me to tell her to fuck off. Just tell me something," he pleads, his voice breaking with unshed tears at the end._

_When Ian doesn't respond, Mickey stands up. He has to tell Fiona it's time to do this. This can't go on. His hand is on the doorknob when he hears a whisper, "I think I need to go."_

_Mickey turns around and faces Ian. The other boy's eyes are open, but lack their usual life. "You sure?" _

_Ian lets a tear fall down his pale cheek, "I need to get better. You'll be here when I get….come back?" he asks tearfully._

_Mickey sighs and sits back down on his bed. "Christ, Ian. Of course, I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."_

_Ian nods his head, "Okay."_

_Mickey leans forward and runs his thumb over Ian's cheek. "You listen to the doctor and do what he tells you to do, so you can get better. Can you do that?"_

_Ian nods his head and leans into Mickey's touch. "I'm not going anywhere," Mickey whispers._

Once again Mickey is rubbing Ian's cheek affectionately. "That's right. Just as you did then, you listen to the doctor so he can make you better. And I'm not going anywhere."

Ian licks his lips again. "Promise?"

Mickey rolls his eyes, "Of course, I fucking promise. Where the fuck else will I be? This place has the best air conditioning around and I'm sick and tired of sweating my balls off."

Mickey can tell that Ian is too tired to respond verbally, but he is relieved when a small smirk spreads across Ian's face for a few seconds. But, much too soon, an annoyed sigh coming from Dr. Baldarelli brings Mickey's attention back to the matter at hand. To why Mickey is here in the first place. "Listen, man. You gotta let them do some tests. That way they know what drugs they can pump in you to make you better, got it?"

Once again Ian doesn't say anything, but he does nod his head and gives Mickey's hand one more tight squeeze.

"You good?" Mickey asks.

"Good," Ian tiredly slurs.

Mickey nods his head as he sadly lets go of Ian's hand. "I'll let them get to it then. I'll be right here. I'm not leaving the room, I just got to give them room to do what they have to do."

One of the nurses looks like she's about to object but the look that Mickey gives her silences her. Ian appears to be oblivious to it all now and from his lack of response, Mickey guesses that Ian has finally exhausted his body into unconsciousness. Even though he's pretty sure that Ian isn't aware of what's going on. Mickey backs away from the gurney he watches as the nurses maneuver a now silent and pliable Ian into the fetal position as the doctor picks up the ridiculously long needle. As he watches the long needle go into a silent, still Ian Mickey repeats a mantra of "It's going to be okay, Ian. I'm here" quietly to himself.

**This was a longer update than I intended, but I figured it's the least I owe you guys for making you wait so long for this update. **


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